Beth Barron

Implosion 1

St. Paul, MN
Found band-aids, red thread, hand stitched. Photo: Warwick Green

Following a loss in 1999, as I walked in grief around one of the many lakes in Minneapolis, I found my first band-aid on the pavement. I thought about how easy it is to soothe a child’s wounds and give comfort. How often had I relieved my wailing child’s grief simply by applying a band-aid? And I laughed at myself, wishing it was as simple to repair a broken heart. Since then, I have developed an uncanny ability to find these discarded coverings (at parks, playgrounds, and on sidewalks). I know that somewhere another wound has been exposed. And, prodded by these symbols, I continue to discover metaphors to contemplate. I question how it is that we heal ourselves—body and soul—after personal or social devastation, whether our healed scars protect us in some new stronger way, and how fragile or resilient we will be once we have been wounded.